Walter Judd and his wife, Miriam, are greeted by President Reagan, and first lady Nancy, at 1981 ceremony for Presidential Medal of Freedom. / Family photo

by Mary Lou Judd Carpenter, USATODAY

by Mary Lou Judd Carpenter, USATODAY

I can empathize with those married to members of Congress who have just gone through this grueling budget fight. My mother, Miriam, spent much of her life as the wife of a congressman. She, and others like her, are observers on the political front lines but not participants.

Miriam once pondered in a personal writing whether later in life her husband would ever consider the possibility that "My taking up the torch for my country, which I felt was a sacred obligation, lost me her love."

Sixty years ago, there were fewer perks for congressmen, but even then Miriam wrote, after overhearing her young daughter say she was lucky to have such a famous husband, "Sometime I'll tell her it wasn't luck; it was hard work."

My father, Walter Judd, was a Minneapolis Republican member of the House for 20 years (1943â??1963). In 1964, he was even nominated as a "favorite son" presidential candidate by the state party.

Throughout this time, my mother recorded her insights in letters that are valuable in shedding light on the enormous time and energy demands of political life.

In 1960, she and my father were to attend a talk by the famous poet Robert Frost at the Library of Congress. However, the House was in turmoil and "in the ensuing bitterness members used stalling devices, til they were in session til nearly 10," she wrote.

Frost went ahead with his talk. He picked up on the discord and said to the wives-only attendees, "How often we're occupied with upkeep, when we should be busy with uplift." Frost words ring true today -- we need more uplift.

Today, the public may see the congressional wife as a conniving partner in House of Cards, but Miriam was different. She was a loyal spouse and devoted mother who also found energy to inspire an American boycott of Japanese silk stockings. And she led the integration of the District of Columbia chapters of the YWCA in the 1960s.

In spite of my parents' deep devotion to each other and the exciting moments of treaty conferences and many social events, her life was lived primarily apart from my father's activities and emotional commitments.

Miriam wrote that she raised their three daughters "virtually single-handed" as her husband served in office. This led her to write, "I'm not a good mother these days," and "what a Hell I have been creating for myself."

The fact that Miriam kept all of the letters suggests she unconsciously hoped that others might learn something useful from her life. I think it's important that the record include her first-person perspective on events, as too often history has been recorded only by men.

Some men may be surprised at the depth of Miriam's struggle between her love and devotion to her husband and her own desire to serve the public good. But her options became limited as a result of her husband's choices and "causes." I had no awareness of this internal angst, which many such "good women" have carried.

In 1981 President Reagan awarded my father the Presidential Medal of Freedom for his advocacy of freedom around the world. Miriam was at his side at the White House ceremony. In her own way she had finally found freedom within the confines of being a congressional spouse.